


My Own Prison

by tigerlily0



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Gen, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-09
Updated: 2006-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlily0/pseuds/tigerlily0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Song fic to <i>My Own Prison</i> by Creed (lyrics shown in italics). Covers Season 1, plus Season 2 up through 2.3 <i>Scan</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Own Prison

_A court is in session, a verdict is in_

Lincoln Burrows almost cried when he was pronounced guilty of a murder he didn't commit. And when he was sentenced to the electric chair, well, that was almost the last straw.

Three years later, his brother Michael Scofield had to hide a grin when he pled guilty to a crime he did commit (well, you know, sort of). And had to hide his pleased expression when he was sentenced to five years at Fox River.

_No appeal on the docket today_

Lincoln did cry, alone, in his cell, when he got the news that his last appeal was denied and a date would be set for his execution.

Michael only went to the extreme of getting himself incarcerated when all of his brother's appeals were exhausted, and he had no other option. He **had** to save his brother, or die trying. (Despite all outward appearances to the contrary, he wasn't stupid, insane, or suicidal, just desperate.)

_Just my own sin_

Linc knew he was not an innocent man. He hadn't been innocent for a long, long time. He had plenty of sin on God's books for Judgment Day. He just wasn't guilty of **this** crime. But it was this crime that would kill him. Ironic, wasn't it?

Michael knew he was not an innocent man, technically, since he had really committed the crime. But was he really guilty, either? Since he had to do it. For his brother.

_The walls are cold and pale  
The cage made of steel_

Linc spent many a long hour, just staring at the blank cold white walls of the SHU. Pretty much twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for three years. Just contemplating his own mortality, his own life, which was getting colder, and paler, by the day. As the date of his execution drew inexorably nearer.

Michael stared out at the three tiers of men in the cell block, through the steel bars on his cell door, for weeks, going over and over the plan in his head, making sure every detail was perfect. It had to be. There could be no mistakes. This was Linc's last chance. **He** was Linc's last chance.

_Screams fill the room  
Alone I drop and kneel  
Silence now the sound  
My breath the only motion around  
Demons cluttering around_

Lincoln could hear very little from the inside of his tiny little cell with the solid steel door with the tiny little opening, just big enough to allow food in and dirty dishes out and to exchange dirty laundry for clean. Quite the change from the chaotic cell blocks he'd been in before, and the noisy and dirty streets he was used to living on. It was **too** quiet. In here, there was no way to drown out the demons in his head.

It took Michael some time to get used to all the noise in the cell block, at all times of the day and night, with random yelling and screaming. It was never quiet. He didn't even want to know what was happening that caused the screams. Finally, to save his sanity, he had to just block it all out and focus on his breathing -- in and out, in and out -- and focus on his plan, all nicely encoded in the demons and angels in his tattoo.

_My face showing no emotion  
Shackled by my sentence  
Expecting no return  
Here there is no penance_

Linc had learned over the years to not hope for anything. He was facing death in the face every day, emotion was his downfall. He just had to keep going and put it out of his mind. And not even think of the possibility that he might be exonerated. That was just too much to handle.

Michael learned over the last months to put all emotion aside and focus, focus, focus on the plan. There could be nothing else. And not to expect help from anybody, either. His sentence – his true sentence – was to save his brother, the way his brother had saved him. Repeatedly.

_My skin begins to burn_

After too many hours in solitary – hour after hour after hour of nothing to do except stare at the walls – Lincoln could start to feel his skin start to crawl and itch. And he would scratch and scratch until he made it burn and bleed, just to feel something, **anything**.

Michael almost lost everything when the steam pipe started to burn through the guard's uniform and sear his flesh. With the guard right in front of him, he had to bite his own knuckle to keep from yelling out, to keep from screaming out his pain. But later, when Sucre pulled the uniform off, he just couldn't hold back anymore. It all came screaming out, all the pain and frustration, at least until he passed out.

_(And I said oh) So I held my head up high  
Hiding hate that burns inside  
Which only fuels their selfish pride  
(And I said oh) We're all held captive  
Out from the sun  
A sun that shines on only some  
We the meek are all in one_

The more Lincoln and Michael and Veronica and the others learned about the massive conspiracy that led them all to this untenable situation, the more hatred burned in them at everything that had been done to them. In the name of what? The selfish quest for power by a lucky few? It was totally unbelievable – some kind of secret organization pulling all the strings in this country and around the world? Linc and Mike were determined to get out and do something about it. They had to be stopped...

_I hear a thunder in the distance  
See a vision of a cross  
I feel the pain that was given  
On that sad day of loss_

After the escape, in the dark of night while they were hiding out from their pursuers, Michael and Lincoln attempted to sleep, but both lay awake in their own spots on the warehouse floor, wracked with guilt about all those whose lives had been lost in their pursuit of justice. Lisa, Veronica, Westmoreland, others that they did and did not know about. It was a sobering list.

_A lion roars in the darkness  
Only he holds the key  
A light to free me from my burden  
And grant me life eternally_

And now, the key to their successful escape from the law was the money that Charles – that old lion – had buried in Utah. Utah was now the promised land. If they were caught, Linc would be executed and Michael would spend the next fifteen years in solitary. Utah. They had to get to Utah.

_Should have been dead on a Sunday morning  
Banging my head  
No time for mourning  
Ain't got no time_

Linc tried to talk to Michael that next day, while they were on the run, in hiding, about what had happened the day that he was strapped into the electric chair, almost executed. How he felt, how it made him ten times as determined not to let it happen again.

But Michael didn't want to hear it. There was no time for looking back. They had to move forward, make a plan, polish the plan, the plan, the plan, the plan.

_I cry out to God  
Seeking only his decision  
Gabriel stands and confirms  
I've created my own prison_

Linc and Michael sat side-by-side in their borrowed car, on their way to Utah, each a prisoner of his own thoughts. Each trying to make their peace with God. Hoping to Hell that this all worked out. It had to.


End file.
